


Candy Wrapper

by Skeletorific



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Brief hints of GamDirk (shitpost), Fictional Religion & Theology, Gen, Implied GamKar, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Suicide, The Homestuck Epilogues, The Homestuck Epilogues: Candy, just two fragments of lord english discussing truth relevance and essentiality, nothin to see here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:34:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24472843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skeletorific/pseuds/Skeletorific
Summary: The last conversation of Dirk Strider, to one Gamzee Makara, shortly before his tragic suicide
Kudos: 17





	Candy Wrapper

**Author's Note:**

> Stemming from my overwhelming curiosity about how Gamzee was the last person Dirk talked to in Candy, and my insatiable need as a Gamzee liker and a Dirk liker to reconcile myself with Candy's nature. I didn't know how to indicate this in the tags, but Gamzee and Dirk discuss his impending actions with about the same level of gravity as the Epilogues themselves do, so tread lightly.

It’s a muggy day. Heat doesn’t so much settle on your skin as drip down your back, soaking the waistband of your boxers and the edges of your tank top. You have the fans running at full speed in your workshop, but it barely seems to cut through the thick fog of sweaty, heavy air.

It’s not, you think, a good day to die, but that’s what comes of being forced to move some timetables up.

Your name is Dirk Strider, and John Egbert has made his choice. 

Of course you’d been prepared for this eventuality. The nice thing about a little binary choice like that is it minimizes the possible offshoots. The splinters running around. Two Dirks, one choice. A bargain, really, at the rate Dirks were running these days. Of course, by the time you were finished up here, there would really only be one Dirk that mattered. 

One Dirk for all time. One Dirk to find them, One Dirk to bring them all-

Scratch that. Stupid.

Still, you think to yourself as you finish stripping the robot on your table of any needlessly identifying parts. You’d kind of been hoping it would be the other guy. Not that that made any sense. It was always going to be you, because paradoxically, it always was. You weren’t the time guy, but you had enough grasp of causality to understand that level of permanence. The benefits of one of your splinters being THE time guy to end all time guys.

Speaking of which. 

The last person you want to speak to (in many senses of the word) has arrived

>Dirk: Open the Door 

The smell of your guest is enough to knock a weaker man off his feet. A few years sweating it out with the same terrycloth pjs riding up on you isn’t exactly a treat for the senses. Gamzee Makara greets you with a noxiously doped out smile.

Gamzee: wHaT tHe MoThErFuCk Is UpPpPp mY iNvErTeBrOtHeR  


Dirk: what the motherfuck indeed, dude.  


Dirk: just the clown i needed to see.  


Gamzee: aHaHa, HaD a FeElInG, aLl Up In My PuMpBiScUiT hOnK ;o)  


You don’t dignify the wink with a response, instead stepping aside to let him shamble across your threshold. Clowns, unlike vampires, seem to be able to enter without invitation. In fact, it’s possible it may encourage them.

Dirk: anyone come with you  


Dirk: follow you  


Gamzee: nAh BrOtHeR  


Gamzee: jUsT mE iN aLl My LoNeSoME  


Dirk: good  


You take a last look outside. Alright Jane, maybe you ARE a little paranoid, but having Calliope bust in on her doting adoptive father at the moment would be awkward for any number of reasons. Gamzee squeaks his way across your pristine shop floors and, based on the crash, flops himself onto a pile of discarded bot limbs.

You barely restrain an eyeroll as you lock the door and turn to

Gamzee: cut that shit out  


It takes you by surprise. You look back to see him staring at you. The blissed out grin is gone and he’s scowling at you now.

Gamzee: maybe you ain’t hearin so well  


Gamzee: I SAID. TO MOTHERFUCKING.  


Gamzee: quit it :o)  


Dirk: uh  


Gamzee: you got a fresh new trick and that’s fine.  


Gamzee: FINE AND FRESH AS A BOTTLE OF WICKED ELIXIR  


Gamzee: but i’d motherfuckin appreciate a little honesty at least  


....How’d you know- 

Gamzee: brother, i’ve met the black text guy  


Gamzee: SURE AS I LIVE AND BREATHE, YOU AINT HIM. WE AINT HIM.  


Gamzee: and you’re not the only one with fractures to account for at the end of all things  


.....Ok.  
Fair play clown. You’ve exceeded my expectations. Something I doubt will happen again. 

Gamzee: ;o)  


Eugh. Knock that off. 

Dirk: so then  


Dirk: if you know that then you know why i called you here  


Gamzee: sure.  


Gamzee: but i got a riddle that needs solving  


You wonder to yourself if he wasn’t just alternating between lines. This quirk is really inconsistent-

Gamzee: i said  


Gamzee: to motherfucking  


Gamzee: QUIT IT.  


Dirk: sorry. force of habit  


Gamzee: then unstick that habit. addiction’s a wicked bitch to indulge  


Gamzee: AND SETTLE THIS MATTER IN MY THINKPAN ALL STILL.  


Gamzee: if you didn’t know as to my knowing, then why expect me here. why want it.  


You pull a piece of paper from your pocket, fiddling with it a bit as you look down at the words written on it. Syllables at once too empty and too full, just like the head it’s written to. Dave will- You’re getting off topic. The truth is you’ve also been wondering that as well. 

Dirk: like you said, i’m not the only one with splinter selves here.  


Dirk: and there’s a version of me rubbing shoulders quite, quite closely with a version of you out there in paradox space.  


Dirk: alongside a particularly obnoxious little runt and a surprisingly carnal horse dude, but they’re less relevant to this equation.  


Dirk: you’ve done your job and made sure they won’t be relevant to my timeline for a good long while.  


Dirk: and that’s why it has to be you i think.  


Dirk: when you’re working with a cosmic joke on this scale, sometimes a clown is the only one who can help deliver the punchline.  


Gamzee: i’ve heard that joke.  


Gamzee: AIN’T THAT MOTHERFUCKIN FUNNY, IF I’M IN THE HARSH HONESTIES ABOUT IT.  


Don’t distract. You’re not as good at it as I am. Gamzee knows, in his cold, dead heart of hearts, what’s about to happen. And more importantly, he knows why it needs to happen. The only missing piece is what comes after. Makara rolls his eyes, shifting his body a bit so he can scratch his ass. The clatter of scraping metal is almost as bad as the visual. 

Gamzee: goddamn  


Gamzee: you really are all talkin like that huh :o(  


Dirk: like what  


Gamzee: don’t be thinkin on it  


Gamzee: so you ring my bell in the final hours. Your last dark night and its my hand you wanna hold? want a motherfucker to spell out some last rites?  


Gamzee: IF I HAD ANY SPECIAL STARDUST LEFT, BROTHER, I’D OFFER YOU A PUFF, I SWEAR.  


Dirk: you felt it didn’t you  


Dirk: the break from relevance, the second egbert made his choice  


Gamzee: motherfucker, out here, its all irrelevance as far as my concerns go  


Gamzee: ALL THE WASTEFUL JAWS OF A SEEDFLAP WHAT GOT GREEDY  


Gamzee: my part is played. took my last righteous bow  


Dirk: but not all of it is irrelevance that involves you.  


That hits. The scowl on his face deepens, making his old face paint crack a little more. Flakes of it fall onto his shirt. 

Dirk: that’s what you want, right. an out.  


Dirk: you went as far as to get yourself fridged to make it happen.  


He doesn’t respond. He turns his gaze to the ceiling, studying the popcorn patterns like it might hold answers. Like there’s anything that’s been a question mark for this clown since well before my introduction. He doesn’t have questions, he inspires them. Questions without answers, questions meant only to frustrate the asker. 

Dirk: the other you at least got the dignity of evaporation.  


Dirk: so far as that timeline is concerned you’ve winked out of existence, as far from relevancy as imaginable.  


Dirk: but egbert made the wrong choice in this one. and as a result you’ll be consigned to an even worse fate.  


Dirk: do you need me to tell you what it is.  


Gamzee:...  


Dirk: of course you don’t. but i’m going to say it anyways.  


Because YOU need to hear it, don’t you? And here in the bounds of fanon, I don’t have to give one singular, flying fuck about “essentiality”. Thank heavens for Gamzee Makara, about whom nothing has ever been considered essential. 

Dirk: within the confines of our story, you serve a purpose. an infuriating one, but a purpose nonetheless.  


Dirk: you’re a joke that’s played out. doomed to spiral into the furthest outreaches of irony  


Dirk: the point where it ceases to be a self-deprecating nudge about the teller and instead becomes a bludgeon to beat the audience over the head with.  


Dirk: everything likeable, intriguing, or even the slightest bit entertaining about you will be drained away, until all that is left is the half-remembered aspects of you cobbled together into its most frustrating form.  


Dirk: every bad fanfiction needs a hatesink, and this one has elected you, old pal.  


Dirk: antagonism without pathos and without a punchline. a fate worse than death for a guy who’s historically only survived on those.  


Gamzee doesn’t respond. But finally, whatever he’s looking at in the ceiling seems to answer back. He rolls to his feet, stretching out his long limbs with an impossible number of pops. I’m almost positive troll bodies don’t even have that many bones. 

Gamzee: so was there a point you were arrivin your bad self at  


Gamzee: OR DO YOU JUST LIKE HEARING YOURSELF THAT MOTHERFUCKIN MUCH  


Gamzee: speak, bitch. what is it you’re expecting me to do  


Dirk: it’s too late for either of us to go back  


Dirk: so i want you to use it.  


Gamzee: :o?  


Dirk: do what you do best. piss them off  


Dirk: piss EVERYONE off  


Dirk: make every second you’re around a chore to slog through gamzee. make it an offense to good taste, sight, smell, and every other goddamn sense you can think of  


Dirk: i want every church lady in a fifty mile radius of some tween opening up their favorite webcomic’s epilogues to clutch their pearls in secondhand moral outrage  


Dirk: the existence of words on the page doesn’t mean shit if no one can bear to read them. it’s the fastest way i can think of to doom this pit of a timeline to the hellhole it deserves  


Gamzee: hmmm  


Gamzee:....i could do that, brother.  


Gamzee: but what would you be doin  


Dirk: me? i’ll be six feet under, after a brief stint as a grisly spectacle.  


Dirk: but the other me is where stuff gets juicy  


Gamzee: like that ass-  


Dirk: like my ass-  


Dirk: that’s what i thought  


Gamzee: HONK  


Dirk: in any case, the other me follows through with my plan. go ultimate, pick up some help, and abscond the fuck out of dodge  


Dirk: do everything in my power to steer this sinking ship back on track and save my friends from the worst thing i can think of  


Dirk: meanwhile, you, my friend, will be blissfully obliviated from memory, either because people will stop reading, or because someone will finally lose their patience and merc your ass the way you’ve had coming for a long, long time  


Gamzee: heh  


Gamzee: what can i say  


Gamzee: iM a BiTcHaSs NaUgHtY mOtHeRfUcKeR  


Dirk: see, it’s that kind of shit that makes me certain i’m leaving things in bad hands.  


Dirk: so. do we have a deal.  


He makes a real show of mulling it over. Lots of concentrated thinking faces, though I’ve studied far too long under the art of “sarcastic agreement” to be fooled. Finally, he sticks out a hand. 

Gamzee:a deal, brother  


Stoically, I take his dry, dusty hand, and pump it once in a gentleman’s agreement. Despite the coarse, unpleasant texture and the frigid feeling indicative of his higher blood, his grip is strong. He squeezes my hand lightly, almost...reassuringly. I look up into his eyes aNd SlOwLy StArT tO lEaN iN, sQuAwK gApEr AlL eAgEr AnD pArTeD- 

Dirk: whoa.  


Dirk: dude.  


Dirk: are we...  


Dirk:.....doing this  


Gamzee: hehe  


Gamzee: do we up and wanna be ;o)  


Dirk:....  


Dirk:....  


Dirk:....  


Dirk: no.  


Gamzee: that’s what i thought.  


He releases my hand, which I run through my hair almost compulsively. What kind of cracked out xeno shit....this is worse than those Dirkkats- 

Gamzee: you makin moves at my moirail, seduction ways  


Dirk: the less time we spend on my romantic exploits  


~~(Or lack thereof)~~

Dirk: the better.  


I turn back to the robot, tucking my note carefully in the hand. Despite the circumstances, there’s a certain mundane melodrama to the whole thing that doesn’t sit well with me. My bro would be disappointed, but crafting a more ironic display risks tipping him off. And trust me, there will be displays a plenty in a few seconds. Grotesque, over the top displays that may even make Gamzee’s actions unnecessary for many. It's harsh, but, it's what's necessary. 

Dirk: i’d better go. start preparing...  


Dirk: well, a version fit for them.  


Dirk:....  


Dirk: one more thing.  


Gamzee: what would that be?  


Dirk: dave  


Dirk: for obvious reasons i couldn’t tell him anything. he wouldn’t understand.  


Dirk: or wont for a long while at least  


Dirk: keep an eye on him for me  


Dirk: he’ll need a sign early to start distrusting things. make an ass of yourself at my funeral or something  


Normally I’d worry about that setting off my other friends too, and it wouldn’t do to have too many actors looking around trying to _fix_ this place. Fortunately, I know them. Bunch of more repressed teens you never did see in your life, Gamz. You’ll be protected by a social conscience too strict to let any of them speak up against you.  


Dirk: after that he’ll give you a wide berth, but...i don’t know  


Dirk: do what you’re gonna do, but make sure he lives. there’s a little surprise i left, for when he’s ready  


Gamzee: mm.  


Gamzee: this the little shit what likes to send music videos to hapless frenemies :o)  


Dirk: i  


Dirk: don’t really know how to respond to that  


Gamzee: AND YET YOU’RE STILL TALKIN, ALL MIRACULOUS  


Gamzee tugs on a stray curl, which crackles. Stiff with sweat. 

Gamzee: i’ll keep my looks out for him  


Gamzee: but there’s no promises when my work starts. only what i’ll do and what i won’t  


Gamzee: truth be told even i don’t know what’ll happen or why  


Gamzee: JUST GOTTA LISTEN TO THE LITTLE MESSIAHS WHISPERING SWEET LIES AND SOUR TRUTHS.  


Gamzee: you motherfuckin feel  


Dirk: then at least...  


....  


Dirk: tell him it’ll be ok  


Dirk: tell him....he’ll be ok.  


Dirk: he’ll get what he needs  


Gamzee: honk  


Gamzee: will do  


So much for the dramatic moment of comradery. I sigh and close my eyes, trying to refocus as I draw this scene to an end. Write a version without him present, a version where Dirk Strider walks the last steps alone, painfully and inexplicably as far as concerned viewers go.

hey motherfucker

....yes?

good luck.  



End file.
